


My Holmes

by Herk



Series: The Life and Love of Mycroft Holmes [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Complete, Did I mention fluff?, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 01:52:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5893591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herk/pseuds/Herk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg has a pet name for Mycroft. Mycroft wants to know why Gregory keeps calling him 'My'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Holmes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [matomato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matomato/gifts).



> Written because matomato wanted me to. Blame them ;)
> 
> Unbeta'd because I was too impatient to wait for Dimar to come online.
> 
> This tidbit takes place after "The very slow seduction" and probably before (maybe during) "I only want this day to end"

Greg watched his lover slowly coming back down to earth. Covered in sweat and breathing heavily, having let go of any kind of control, this had to be the most glorious sight he ever laid his eyes on. Mycroft lazily opened his eyes and the love and trust he found there never ceased to amaze him. He guessed that his own eyes were mirroring the expression perfectly.

“I love you, My.”

The British Government blinked. Hearing those words still seemed to startle him every time. Greg thought it was adorable.

“I love you too, Gregory.” With those words Mycroft buried his face in Greg’s chest. It was a coy gesture - being this open with anybody still was a frightening prospect for his lover. But slowly My was getting better, the phases before he needed to hide behind his control again getting a little longer each time. Mycroft breathed in deeply, taking in his scent and Greg sighed contently. This was as good as it got.

“Gregory?”

“Mmm?”

“Why do you call me 'My'?”

“That’s your name.” Greg couldn’t help himself from playing a bit dumb.

“My name is My _croft_.”

Greg giggled at the slight exaggeration in his lover’s voice. “If we get technical, your name is Mycroft Reginald Siger Holmes. But you can forget me calling you that every time I want to talk to you.”

When he saw the question still in Mycroft’s face, he grew a bit more serious. “Is the concept of a pet name really that alien to you?”

“Hardly - but I want to know why you picked that specific one.”

Greg smirked. “Really? You are quite clever and I’m sure you can figure it out with all that brainpower of yours, My-Love.” He put a kiss on the tip of the prominent Holmesian nose, then pulled the blanket around him as he lay down, ready to fall asleep.

 

They were sharing breakfast the next morning when Mycroft commented casually. “Most people use Dear, Darling, or Honey when going for terms of endearment.”

Greg snorted into his coffee. “If I ever called you something like that in public, my body would probably never be found - not to speak of poor innocent bystanders. You could never have witnesses survive either.”

He could see the cogs in Mycroft’s brain turning, trying to figure it out. But he let it lie for now.

 

Two days later they managed to both steal away long enough for a shared lunch. It might just be sandwiches but the company still made it the best lunch Greg had had all week. He was just taking a sip from his water when Mycroft commented:

“Mummy usually goes for 'Myc'.”

Greg shook his head. “You hate 'Myc'. If even your mother isn’t allowed to call you that without you getting all irritated and dour, what chance does a poor, old, simple DI have?”

Mycroft smiled. “You’re hardly any old DI, Gregory. And I wouldn’t call you ‘simple’.”

Coming from a Holmes those words were a very thoroughly thought-through compliment. Greg felt his heart warm with pride and affection. “I love you too, My.”

Seeing the slight blush those words caused made Lestrade want to jump his lover then and there. Something must have shown in his eyes because Mycroft’s blush deepened. “Gregory, we ARE in public.”

“That’s the only thing holding me back right now,” he admitted in a voice too low for anyone but Mycroft to hear.

 

They were watching a nature documentary - a compromise between Greg’s need for something that even remotely interested him and Mycroft’s absolute refusal to watch anything that could be deemed “entertainment”. Greg was sitting on the couch with the British Government’s head in his lap. Mycroft found “light” documentaries a lot more bearable when he got Greg’s fingers running through his hair.

“I simply don’t see the need for pet names at all.” Mycroft stated when one of the comments on TV obviously annoyed him too much to stay silent.

Greg chuckled. “My, you are the only person in the universe who calls me Gregory.”

“It’s your name.” His lover pouted.

“Does it really annoy you when I call you ‘My’?” Suddenly he was worried. He always assumed that Mycroft secretly liked it, but if he had just put up with it for Greg’s sake… 

He loved calling Mycroft ‘My’. He thought of him as ‘My’. He would stop using the nickname if his lover wanted him to but it wouldn’t be easy.

“No. I would have thought so if someone had asked me, but it doesn’t.” Mycroft turned from his side to his back to look at Greg instead of the screen. “But I want to know why.”

“And you can’t figure it out.” There was no trace of amusement in his voice now. For someone like Mycroft this wasn’t some silly guessing game, he realized. He should have known better. Like his brother, Mycroft couldn’t let a riddle go unsolved - it was almost like a personal insult if something defied his attempts to figure it out. “My-Love, you are forgetting one very basic fact about me.” His fingers were still stroking through his lover’s thinning hair.

Mycroft looked up at him. his brow furrowed. Greg was amazed how blind to the obvious the British Government could be from time to time; he had basically told him twice now.

“I am at the bottom of my heart a simple man. No, don’t scoff at that - I am. And I have some very stupid, primitive instincts - like I have to fight the urge to growl at people I see checking you out.”

Mycroft snorted. A very undignified sound that not many people had witnessed coming from the government official.

“To the world there is your brother Sherlock Holmes, your mother Violet Holmes, your father Siger Holmes and you.”

“Mycroft Holmes.”

“But to me you are…”

When he finally understood the obvious, Mycroft clearly struggled to retain his composure. Greg smiled.

“My love, my heart, My Holmes.” He leaned down to kiss the British Government.

“Always yours,” Mycroft promised the TV forgotten for the night.


End file.
